Apologies
by Ink Cat
Summary: House was entirely wrong, and yet somehow he was so right. He made her feel… not so numb. Like she was actually alive again. Because honestly, she had been dead for quite some time. HXCAM AngstFluff
1. Chapter 1

Heya. This is my first House-fic, so positive feed-back is certainly welcomed. Spoilers for some of first season, specifically the episodes just before Love Hurts. And just a note, could you try to keep reviews spoiler-free? -covers ears- La, la, la, can't hear you, haven't seen Season Two, don't tell me anything! Thanks! Oh, and reviews are much appreciated. I love you! (Okay, not really, but I do appreciate you very, very much!)

Disclaimer: House no es mio.

Chapter One

It had been two days since House had told her that he didn't like her. The edge was beginning to wear off of her hurt and it was being replaced by numbness. It wasn't surprising. She spent most of her life in that emotionless place. It kept her professional, kept her functioning, kept her sane. But…

House was entirely wrong. He was loud, rude, obnoxious, lewd, irritating, maddening… and yet somehow, he was so right. She had been willing to let her insincerely pleasant exterior slip, had been willing to let go. For him. He made her feel… not so numb. Like she was actually alive again. Because honestly, she had been dead for quite some time.

She suspected that he had been, too; closing his doors and using sarcasm to hide himself. She had hoped… _Ah, but hope was for suckers_, she interjected.

Still, she may as well be open with herself, at least. What had she hoped? She searched herself for a moment before she found an answer.

She had hoped they could save each other.

So much for that, though.

Foreman had asked her a question. How much did she like House? She hadn't answered, partially because she hadn't wanted to and partially because she hadn't even known.

Cameron looked into the mirror. She saw the same pretty face that always looked back at her. She scrutinized the woman before her and came to the conclusion she hadn't been able to reach earlier.

How much did she like House?

A lot. A whole lot. She wouldn't play with illusions, would not be naïve enough to say that she loved Gregory House. But she was close… so much closer than she thought.

Cameron did not fall in love. She had boyfriends and lovers, and they suited her well  
and fine, but eventually she always severed ties before they got too attached to her, because in her heart Cameron knew that she could never love any of them. But somehow House had snuck into her affections without her even noticing, nor for any reason on her part that she could find.

And it had hurt when he had pushed her away. Hurt because she had really thought that maybe, just maybe… he could have loved her, too.

Later that day, he had said, "Cameron's my girl," and that had hurt most of all, because she wished that she could be just that. His girl.

Of course, it was shrugged off, just like all of his remarks and compliments.

_You're pretty, Cameron._

_Good theory._

_Everyone likes you._

Except, it seemed, the only person who mattered.

Well. Gregory House did not like her, and she damned near loved him. She brushed her hair back from her face and let her placid, clinical mask fall back into place. She would deal with this as she always had – push back her emotions. Remain professional. And if she had to live the rest of her life without feeling anything, then so be it. Allison Cameron would not break.

But deep down, Cameron knew that something was already breaking. Her heart.

She sank to the ground. She would let herself weep just this once for Gregory House, and for what could've been, and for herself – the eternal ice queen – before she closed her heart.

The tears came hot and fast and for a time, Cameron allowed herself to become lost in emotion. It felt so good and so honest. But it could only be just this once.

She eventually came back to herself, sniffling on the floor of her apartment and feeling  
like an imbicile for it. She took a deep breath and wiped the tears from her damp, hot cheeks while the pounding in her head began to slow. And it was as she sat quietly on the ground in the after-haze of tears that a paper was slipped beneath her door. With a tired sigh, she pulled herself to her feet to retrieve it.

I'm not in the mood for games, she grumbled silently. Still, her curiosity got the better of her. She unfolded it…

_Dear Cameron,_

_I lied._

_-H_

_P.S. I'm sorry._


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two 

Her hands shook. Hell, her whole body shook.

Flipping over the note, she groped for a pen in her labcoat, her sorrow vanished and uncertainty and...hope? taking its place. She considered it for a moment, then scrawled,

_Where do we go from here? _

And slipped it under the door before she lost her nerve. There was nothing but silence from outside. She started to wonder if he had left the note and then gone, but just as she had that thought she heard his rough, uncompromising voice. "We could open the door, for starters."

Cameron stood, took a deep breath, and turned the knob. And there he was before her, looking nothing the same as the House that she knew, this quiet, serious man who met her eyes unashamed. His gaze wandered to her tearstained cheeks and red eyes. He brought his fingers up to brush her feverish skin, warm with past tears, and Cameron's eyes slipped closed at his touch. He spoke with disbelief evident in his voice.

"You cried for me?"

She nodded wordlessly, her eyes opening and returning to his. She looked away, embarassed. "I didn't mean to, I just..." she trailed off.

She felt his hand move down to grasp her chin and turn him back to him again.

"I... Ireally am sorry."

"I know." And somehow, she did. House had never been sorry about his choices before, as far as she had seen - he made his descicions and didn't regret them. But somehow she didn't doubt his sincerity for a second in this.

"What made you change your mind?" she asked.

"I was lying to everyone. Even myself. I figured if I was walking down the hall and had to forcibly slam my leg against the wall to stop thinking about it that there was probably something wrong with the situation."

She smiled a little. "The old distraction method again?"

"Hey, it usually works," he countered defensively.

She bowed her head, a low chuckle escaping her lips. Before she knew what was happening, he had tipped up her chin and was kissing her. He was soft and warm and gentle and nothing like she expected. She leaned into him, letting him reach down to lay a chaste hand on her waist. After a few moments she broke the contact, a pretty blush creeping into her cheeks. "You move fast for a man with a cane."

"So I've been told." He played with a lock of her dark hair absently. His fingers brushed across her lips, softened by kisses. He leaned forward to kiss her again. This time she expected it and responded readily. And it was different. The first kiss had been innocent and light, and had held none of the thinly-veiled heat she felt now. She leaned into him, moving to place her hands on his shoulders. He, in turn, managed to wrap his arms loosely around her waist, his hands finding the small of her back and pulling her closer. He nipped at her bottom lip, felt her teeth graze teh strong line of his jaw. A low sound, suspiciously like a purr, rumbled deep in her throat, a primal sound that prickled the hair on his arms. Her hand played with the fringe of curles at the nape of his neck, elicting (with immense pleasure) a slight shiver on his part. His arms moved around to her hips...

And then the touch of his lips and hands was gone, confounding her for a moment before she looked down to see him lying on the floor in a heap, having lost his balance without the help of his  
cane. He cursed under his breath, then lifted his head. He looked at her. She looked at him. And then a chuckle fought its way up her throat, followed by a gigle, and then a full fledged laugh. She caught the scowl he shot her.

"It's not funny, I know, sorry..." But she was unable to keep the laughter down entirely. And surprisingly enough, she was fairly certain that she caught the hint of a self-depreciating smile in the corner of his mouth.

She offered her hand and he took it, pulling himself unsteadily to his feet. She glanced back into her apartment, having realized that they were making a bit of a spectacle of themselves in a public hallway, even if it was deserted. "Would you like to come in?"

She saw him pause for a moment to consider it. She held her breath. This was it, then, wasn't it? She had given him the choice... again. Stay or walk away. Even with all of their actions here tonight, he could still leave if he really wanted to. And he recognized what she was giving him: a choice. Even if it might bring her that excruciating loneliness again, she would give him this freedom. And this time around, he chose differently.

"Yeah. Yeah, I would."

Relief and happiness glowed warm inside her. She took his hand and led him inside.

A casual passer-by would have just enough time to hear her ask, "Have you had dinner yet? I was going to make spaghetti," and to catch the growling of his stomach and a fragment of a laugh before the door slipped closed on a couple who thought they could never be.

_Finis_


End file.
